Darkness Consumes Us
by Rebel Glow
Summary: Yes, that's what she said. She killed her husband. I'm gonna need back-up here...she's kind of freaking me out. You're gonna have a heck of a time questioning this one. Sometimes, I wonder why I became a cop...jeez. Just get down here! (This is a horror story.) One-Shot


**For Fanfiction Imagination's Challenge C: Horror (2014-Tell Tale Heart).**

_Annabeth Chase was such a promising girl. She was intelligent, talented and beautiful. When she was seven, she had done things that most kids never do. Saw things they never saw. Maybe that's what made her do it. The pressure. She has helped save the world more times than I can count. It's a miracle she didn't do something like this earlier._

* * *

><p>My name is Annabeth Chase. I am not crazy. You all think I'm crazy, but I'm not. Others might say I am being manipulated by an enemy. But I have no enemies that would do something like that. I did this because someone had to. And that someone was me.<p>

I will start at the beginning. I'm assuming that you people, being police officers, would want a little background on...who I am. You might think my childhood was horrible, considering what I did. I know the way that you people work, always blaming someone's traumatic childhood for their actions in adulthood. Well, I hate to break your little bubble, but my childhood was fine. Sure, my father didn't want to raise me, my mom was never around and my stepmother was mean. Still, that beats a lot of other people's childhoods.

I ran away at age seven. Thanks to a bit of guidance from my mom, I was able to survive for a few months. I don't know if I could have made it much longer without meeting my...new family. They took me in. We lived together on Long Island. We were a big family, that's for sure. I remember, at one point, I saw my dad and stepmom again...briefly. I think they truly cared for me. They were worried about me. But my home was not with them now. My home was with my new family on Long Island, living closer to my biological mother.

Living on Long Island was great for me. I felt, for the first time in my life, like I was truly home. When I was twelve years old, I met a boy who would change my life forever. He put me on the path towards leaving Long Island. Which I did, at age twenty, when I moved to New York City. That was five years ago. I was so young back then.

I loved the city. Grew to love it, anyway. My husband was already very familiar with New York. As I became familiar with the city, I realized that there were so many sweet people here. Especially our neighbors. I hated them at first, but now I realize how wrong I was. They were a young couple, just like us. He was handsome and dashing; she was lovely. My husband hated them. He always did. I don't know why. They were sweet.

For five years, my husband and I lived happily in a small apartment. Earlier in our relationship, we had considered living in a place called New Rome. I'm not sure exactly what made us change our minds. We sort of felt like we didn't belong in New Rome. Anyway, back to our apartment. Our apartment building was filled with a few other young couples and some lonely old men. Our neighbors that lived in the apartment next to us were such a joy, like I said before.

About a month ago, I got the odd feeling that my husband was lying to me about something. I didn't know what, but the voices in my head told me so. Something big. I had horrible, gruesome nightmares about the secrets he might be keeping. I began to grow scared of my own husband. Honestly, thinking back to before what happened, before the voices, I don't remember feeling like that. It was all so sudden. The voices came out of nowhere. But I loved them. I think I still do.

It wasn't insanity that drove me to believe my husband was a dangerous liar. No one was telling me this except myself. My voices, to be specific. My nightmares. My instincts.

Our neighbors approached me one morning. She looked so worried; he was angry. The woman said that they had something to tell me. I immediately knew that they were going to tell me something about my husband. It was one of those weird feelings that I had been having around the time that the voices were speaking to me. They explained to me that my husband was not only a dangerous liar, but had been sneaking down to see a young woman who lived in our building. He saw her about every other night. After I fell asleep. I wasn't angry...I think. I was perfectly calm. I planned to have a talk with my husband about this.

I wasn't sure how to approach him with something like that. All day, my mind was consumed with talking to him about this young woman he was seeing. I thought that maybe-

Huh? What do you mean? Of course I had real proof against my husband! I trust them. Our neighbors...I forget their names...they're good people.

No...I don't know where they are now. They're not at home? You can't find them? But they have nothing to hide!

Please, I don't feel good. I want to go home. Not to the apartment. I want to leave this city. I want to go home to San Francisco. Please...I don't feel good. Take me back to that holding cell or wherever I was before you dragged me into this interrogation room.

* * *

><p>Thanks for that. I appreciated the <em>whole hour <em>of rest you allowed me. Do you even have any idea what I have been through? Do you know even half of the things that I have done?

Whatever. Where was I? Oh yeah, talking to my husband about that young woman. I wasn't the how to approach him, and before I knew it, the day had ended.

The next day, I mentioned the young woman. It was sudden, at breakfast. I guess I just asked if he had ever talked to her. He showed no interest in her. He was not aroused by her name. He was lying. He was pretending to not know much about her! Now, I was angry. I started to plan my husband's exit from this world. I would rid the world of a dangerous liar.

Of course, I didn't need evidence. And I did have the right to do this. The voices told me it was true and that it required drastic action.

What?

You want to know about the voices? Well, there are two of them. A man and a woman. When I first heard them, I was shocked and scared. But they quickly assured me that they were there to help me. They claimed to work for someone who loved me very much. A goddess. They said the goddess wanted me to know that my husband was not who I thought he was. I believed them. Then, our lovely neighbors helped to confirm my beliefs. In fact, they remind me of my voices. My female voice is gentle and reassuring, similar to our beautiful neighbor. And my male voice is a loud, opinionated guy. Just like our neighbor. And both couples are always together. Always, always, always.

Excuse me?

No! I will not answer that! Just let me continue my story! No! Let me go! I will never stop screaming! Shut up! Shut up! I did the right thing, didn't I? Didn't I? Of course I'm making sense!

* * *

><p>What do you people want now? It's been less than an hour since I was in this room. And don't you dare ask that question again.<p>

Alright. I'll continue. At first, I wasn't sure how to carry out the exit. But I thought it would be fitting if I used a knife. Then, I wasn't sure when to do it. I figured at night would be the best. So I waited. All day yesterday I knew what I would do. My husband would fall asleep beside me and then I would get up. I would quietly move to the kitchen and grab the largest knife. I would return to the bedroom and carry out my plan. But, as you know, that's not how it turned out.

What do you mean? That's not how it went at all. Nothing that night went according to plan. Yes, I know how you found my husband. I know it looks like I acted alone. But I did not. I had help.

The day started well. The sun was shining, the sky was clear and I felt oddly happy...like it wasn't a normal day. Then, night came.

What do you mean? I skipped an important part? This is my story. I will tell it how I want to. Everything else that happened that day, except for the killing, is unimportant.

I'm not crazy.

That night, after my husband fell asleep, I left to go get our biggest kitchen knife. I made sure to make no sound as I snuck out of bed and into the kitchen. The knife wasn't there. Actually, none of our utensils were. This disturbed me. They had been there a few hours ago, and I hadn't heard a thief or any noise at all. Something, maybe my voices, convinced me that our neighbors might know something. So I quietly snuck out of our apartment and knocked on the door of their apartment.

The woman, her beauty present even at night, opened the door to let me in. Her husband was on the couch, holding their little girl in his arms. All three of them seemed very afraid.

Please stop interrupting me. Of course they have a child together! They're not that young! In fact, my husband and I had been talking about having a child for the longest time. We considered adoption, but decided we wanted our child to be biologically related to us. Adoption is a tricky, messy business. We never got around to actually having a baby, though.

* * *

><p><em>Mrs. Chase, who chose to keep her last name after marriage, seems to not remember her own daughter. It appears that she has altered her own memories, imagining that her little Sally was actually the child of her neighbors. The search for the child, last seen by a man who lived in the apartment building, is ongoing. She was seen with the mysterious neighbours that Mrs. Chase keeps mentioning. Whether or not they kidnapped the child is unclear. Whether or not they were involved in the murder of Mrs. Chase's husband is unclear.<em>

_Mrs. Chase is obviously delusional. A guard who stood by her cell reported to me that she was muttering to herself about godly children and heroes. During our little interview, she mentioned a goddess. She even admits to hearing voices. _

* * *

><p>Anyway, they seemed afraid.<p>

Wait, no. That's not the right word. When I entered their apartment, they were nervous...not afraid.

Everything from here is a blur. I remember them...putting a knife in my hand. For some reason, I was crying. I felt like I was being forced to do something that I didn't want to do. But I did want to kill him...right?

I was staring at the little girl. Their daughter, Sally, was so pretty. She's only three, but she has the prettiest eyes. They're a sort of grayish-green. I've never seen a color like that in my life. My eyes are gray, but I've never heard of gray-green. At least I don't think I've seen anyone with that eye color before. Maybe I forgot.

I was always fascinated with their daughter, mostly because she didn't look anything like them. All three in their family were beautiful, but the girl was different. There was something more natural about her...Sally.

I remember standing over the sleeping form of the man I loved. Or...used to love. The knife was in my hand, those neighbors...they were standing behind me, telling me to _DO IT!_

_DO IT, YOU FOOL! KILL HIM! KILL THE ONE YOU LOVE! THIS WAS FORETOLD IN YOUR YOUTH! YOU KNOW THE PREDICTIONS THAT WERE MADE BY THE EVIL ONE! YOU MUST KILL THE ONE YOU LOVE BEFORE YOUR DAUGHTER'S TWELFTH BIRTHDAY! MIGHT AS WELL GET IT OVER WITH!_

They guided my hand. Literally, they took my arm and brought the knife down with force. I don't want to think about what he looked like and what it felt like to bring the knife down over and over and over...to stab my husband to death.

As you already know, there was a lot of blood. Blood...

A bloodstained child stands at the foot of her father's bed...

Hmm? Oh, no. Just something I read in a book.

So, you see. I had help. I was not alone. My neighbors helped me; you might say that they even encouraged or even forced me. I wanted to do it, though...didn't I?

* * *

><p><em>I have no choice. I must do this. I'm head detective of this case. It's my job to keep everyone safe. I have to. It's right. It's what they want, so it must be right.<em>

_The voices are always in my head now, ever since I started working this case. Ever since I met this damn psycho. Annabeth Chase._

_The only way to stop the voices is to do what they say. I don't care what else happens to me, as long as the voices go away. I need to forget about the little girl, Chase's kid. The voices say she's safe, and even if she wasn't, the only thing that matters now is taking care of Chase. _

_I'll be fired or worse. I don't care. I have to ditch the voices. Two of them. A man and a woman. I'm scared. They say that the goddess loves me and wants to help me. They say that Chase deserves it. They say that I will be a hero. They say that the goddess will hurt my wife and kids if I don't do what the voices say. I believe them._

_Too much all at once, killing me slowly. Cursing me to hell or worse. God, please save me._

_I'll just do what they say. Only way to get away. I will make Chase pay._

* * *

><p>Please...<p>

I thought we were done with questions. What are you doing in this cell, detective?

I don't know where Sally or her parents are. If you can't find them, then I-

Put it away. Please. I don't know where they are. Yes, I know they're accomplices, but I don't know how-

Get off me! Please, someone!

No...there has to be someone else in this part of the building. Guards or something! Please! Someone!

My daughter...please. They took my Sally! I don't know why they took her...

Please don't. Ple-

Ah.

* * *

><p><em>It was easy. Clearing the rows of cells, letting me have my way with that...killer. Giving that monster what she deserves. Right?<em>

_I have authority here. I used it. My wife and kids are safe._

_They wanted two things. First, to make Chase's life a living hell. Second, to get their hands on the girl. At least that is what they told me...my voices._

_When they were done torturing Chase mentally and emotionally...they had me put her out of her misery. _

_I don't know what they want with the kid. She's special or something._

_None of my business. All I had to do was stab Chase with my trusty pocket knife. It took a while, but I did it. Quite a few tries, but I finally hit a fatal spot._

_Now...tell me, Annabeth Chase. Tell me exactly what you did._

* * *

><p>I killed Percy Jackson.<p> 


End file.
